Soul Retriever
by TheWolfOfTheStars
Summary: Markiplier and Yamimash are driving back from VidCon When they get into a car crash. Complicated story plot of death ensues. There might be a little Markimash, but it's definitely not the focus of this story. I'm horrible at romance. Hope you enjoy!
1. The Crash

_Author's Note: Okay, new story again. Man, I've got a feeling I'm trying to juggle too many of these at once. But the idea just popped into my head while I was playing Assassin's Creed III, and I just had to write it. I had no idea how I was going to write this intro for the longest time... But I really tried to type after what happened today. _

_Earlier today, there was a car crash that involved a girl from my school. She slid on the ice into the other lane, into another car. She was killed in that crash. I didn't know her, but my sister did, and the loss of any student is a sad one. After I got home today, I sat down in front of my computer and forced myself to type this up. Blargh, I'm horrible at beginnings. Trust me, the next chapters are going to be longer. Hope you enjoy. Stay safe on the roads. RIP, Alyssa. May the angels welcome you._

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Mark or Yami, or anything else that I may reference in this story.

Mark opened the car door for Aaron. "Ladies first!" he said, smirking. Aaron rolled his eyes, a grin spreading across his face, and got in.

He'd finally been able to come here, to America. It was a strange place, but not the bad sort. Most of the time, anyway. He'd come for VidCon, the big important gathering of the Internet that everyone went to. Everyone but him. Until this year. He hadn't been able to rent a car, so his friend had volunteered to bring him to and from the building where they held the event. Everything else, though, he had to walk to. It was lucky the store wasn't too far from the hotel he was staying at.

He'd met a few fans while wandering around. They'd all been very happy to see him, as it was his first year here. They'd talked with him for a little while, gotten pictures, autographs and such. He hadn't expected anyone at all to recognize him, since he was so used to it, so each encounter had left him happily surprised.

He and Mark had chatted on Skype beforehand about it. Mark had been planning for months, but Aaron hadn't really thought about it until the last minute. He'd only just managed to book a flight to get here in time. Now that he was here, he rather regretted not being able to come before. It was a lot of fun. And he got to meet and talk with people in real life and not sitting at his computer. He'd seen a couple other friendly faces-CinnimonToastKen and CaptainSparklez, to name a few. He was tired now, though, glad to be going back home tomorrow.

The two of them talked nonchalantly on the way back to their hotel. _(A.N. They're staying in the same hotel, but not the same room. Just wanna clear that up before anyone gets any ideas.) _They'd recorded a ton of co-ops, with each other and with other people too. Mark, of course, had stretched the 'Markimash' pairing to the point of ridiculousness. All-in-all, it was a great week he'd spent here.

Then Aaron heard the screech of tires somewhere beside them. A horrible feeling pricked at his heart. Something wasn't right...

A car skidded sideways out of its lane and into theirs. It barreled straight into them and sent them careening off the road. They hit a nearby building with a resounding crash. It seemed to Aaron that the world exploded around him. And then everything became darkness and pain and silence.


	2. Almost

_Author's Note: Second day, second chapter. Surprised? Yeah, I know. It's just that I had this written out already. I just had to type it up and upload it. Told you they'd be longer. The next one is going to be super super super long, 'cause I've got a bunch more written out right now, too. Not just this chapter. Also, I'm in French class, so I just felt like I had to include something French. As always, hope you enjoy!_

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Mark or Yami, or anything else that I may reference in this story.

Mark's eyes opened on darkness. The memory of what had just happened slapped him awake. Hurriedly, he stood up and looked around. A dense gray fog was all he could see of his surroundings. Vague thoughts wandered through his mind. _Where am I? The crash... And where's Aaron?_

"Worrying won't help anything." A quiet voice with a French lilt to it snapped him back to the present. A girl emerged from the mist obscuring their surroundings. She looked to be about twelve or thirteen. She wore a long-sleeved black shirt and matching pants, along with the same color of shoes. A pale blue strip of cloth was tied around her waist. Her brown hair was tied back in a bun, and her eyes shone with both wisdom and innocence. Her pale form seemed strangely blurry and smudged, as though Mark saw her through a window on a rainy day. She held a knife in her right hand.

Mark blinked with confusion. "Who are you?"

"Can't you tell?"

"No..." he replied, frowning.

"Hmm..." she frowned too. "Well, what do I look like?"

Thinking that this was a very odd little girl indeed, he gave a quick description of her features.

She nodded, as if he had confirmed something for her. "I see... not quite..."

"Not quite what?"

You're not quite dead."

"What?"

"Is that the only word you know?" she asked irritably. "Yes, you're almost dead, but not quite. Here, look..." She waved her knife rather like a magician would wave his wand, and the fog parted before them.

A queer sight greeted his eyes. He saw himself lying in the hospital, unconscious, with a heart monitor plugged in and IVs sticking out of his hand. "That's you. Your body, I mean. Your spirit, obviously..." she nodded to him.

"So... I'm not really here?" He asked, trying to wrap his head around this turn of events.

"Well, of course you are! Just not in your corporeal form." She sighed. "I suppose I'll take you to It. It might know what to do with you."

"What are you talking about?"

That should be a _who, _not a _what. _It is the lead Retriever-you might think to call It Death. It doesn't like that, though. Death is not a being, death is an event. A happening. A result. No one, living or dead, knows what It is or what it looks like. I suggest you don't ask." With that, she whirled around and started to walk away. Mark hurried to catch up, afraid of being left alone in this shapeless place.

"Hey, what is this place, anyway?"

"The place between life and afterlife. Limbo. The Between. Call it what you will. All spirits arrive here upon death- or near-death, in some cases. In life you may have wandered here at night, in your sleep."

"What's a Retriever?"

One who brings the souls of the deceased to the afterlife. It takes much studying and training to become one. Then again, some learn faster than others. And time... it doesn't work same way here as in the world of the living. It might seem like hours and be only seconds, or years may pass by in the span of a minute. It takes focus to maintain your sense of time, else you lose yourself and wander for eternity."

"Who are you?"

"Je m'appelle Nathalie. I lived in Vezelay. _(A.N. I don't know how to accent letters with this computer, but the first e has an accent aigu above it.) _I died in the French Revolution. As I think you can guess, I am a Retriever."

"I had a friend with me..." Mark glanced around, as if expecting him to suddenly emerge from the mist.

"Ah, yes. Aaron, was his name?" Mark nodded. She did not speak for a while. He was starting to think she simply would not answer. When she did, her words were careful, measured, as if she weighed every one. "I don't know what's happened to him, and I don't know where he is. And I must ask you not to go looking for him, for your own peace of mind. There are...things in this realm, things that none who yet live should see. I wouldn't want you to run into them by accident. You must tread carefully now, for while none can harm a spirit, the afterlife is still a very dangerous place."


	3. Welcome to the Afterlife

_Author's Note: Third day, third chapter. Man, I'm proud of myself. Told ya it would be longer. Can't really think of anything else to put in here, so I'm just gonna say hope you enjoy._

They stood in front of a huge building. It was simply ginormous. And it was made entirely of bones. Mark recoiled at the sight. Nathalie looked faintly ill. "This is the House of Bones," she said. "Once the flesh has rotted off of a corpse, It sends someone to collect the skeleton. At least it's only those who volunteer..." she wrinkled her nose as a murder of ravens flew overhead, each bird carrying a bone and the raven flying point bearing a skull.

"There are animals here?"

"Well, of course there are! Animals die too, you know. And because of Lingua Mortis, we can speak with them. Lucky, too. I doubt any decent person would want to be a bone-bearer."

"What's Lingua Mortis?"

"The language of the dead. You're speaking it right now, although it probably sounds like English. All are united and equal in death, Mark. Even animals. Even plants."

"Plants?"

"Yes, plants die too. They don't speak much, but when they do, you would do well to listen." She looked over at him and grinned. "You have as many questions as leaves on a tree."

Mark could feel his face heating up. He started to stammer out an excuse, but Nathalie only laughed and said, "Questions are good. It means you use your brain. The same cannot be said for many..." she turned to the House of Bones. "We should go."

Though it was very disturbing, Mark had to admit that the place was designed well. It was strange, though-staircases and doorways leading to nowhere, twisting corridors all too easy to get lost within, and he swore he saw rooms change around. It was so full of impossibilities and contradictions that his brain was thoroughly exhausted by the time they entered the throne room.

Two rows of torches lined a long walkway down to a throne of skulls. Upon it sat a tall, hooded figure. A scythe lay across its lap. Before the throne stood a wolf. It looked rather young to Mark. The little wolf spoke in the voice of a boy, perhaps nine or ten. "Sir, or Ma'am, or whatever to call you, I have a message from the wolves."

"All of them? I know the packs almost never agree." It's voice was strange, neither male nor female, low and high and loud and soft and up and down all at once.

"Yes, all of them."

It sighed and leaned back into its throne. "I should probably listen, then."

The little wolf nodded, sat down on the spot, and recited, "The Clan leaders send I, Thunder of Clan Star, Pack Sirius, with a message to relay to It, Supreme Leader and Head Retriever. They send me with a request. A request for more Retrievers. As I speak, wolves are dying of the strange famine. And without sufficient numbers to bring them here, they are left alone and vulnerable to earth-lock."

Mark opened his mouth to speak, but Nathalie seemed to anticipate him. "Earth-lock is when a spirit is unable to travel to Limbo or the afterlife. Stranded on earth in a partially corporeal state, invisible but tangible, you may know them as ghosts."

It sighed again as Thunder finished his little speech. "Very well. Tell the Clan leaders to send a few potential recruits here."  
Thunder seemed surprised. "I will tell them," he replied. "That was easier than i expected..." he breathed as he exited the throne room.

Nathalie stepped forward. "There was a car crash earlier this evening. Mark here was in it. But there's something odd going on... He's not quite dead."

It sat up a bit straighter at her words. "I see. You want to know what to do with him." Nathalie nodded. "Your case is an unusual one." It addressed Mark now. "Very strange. It rarely happens, and when it does, I usually just send a spirit to the afterlife anyway. A half-dead spirit is not really any good to anybody. It confuses the living and the deceased alike, and we really don't need any more of that here. You, though... when I look into your heart, I see no fear of me nor anything else you have seen here thus far. I see curiosity, and an uncommon keenness of mind. Perhaps I'll let you live. But for a price."

"What price?" Mark's voice seemed to speak without his consent, and he bit his tongue.

"Hmm..." Mark rather thought It tilted its head as to consider the spirit before him. "Well, I could always use more Retrievers. You humans are far too overpopulated, I swear...Any sort of problem at all, and you drop like flies..."

Mark nodded, though he had never told his head to move, nor his mouth. "I could do that."

It's tone became more serious. "Are you sure? It will require a long, arduous period of training, and the job itself is dangerous and difficult, not to mention quite disturbing. Some have gone mad from what they have seen. Will you do this in exchange for your life?"

Mark hesitated. Whatever force had driven him before stayed silent now. Would he really do this? It would be so much easier to just let go, to die, to wander the afterlife forever. He didn't have to do this. But Mark wasn't the type to just do what was easiest. He was the type to do what was right. And somewhere, deep down, he had a feeling this was the right this to do. He just knew it. Standing straighter, he looked up at where he thought It's face would be-if it even had a face-and said, "I'm sure."

It nodded. "Then, Nathalie, take him to his new quarters."

She turned and started to walk away. Mark, once more, hurried to catch up. _Is she always this brisk?_

She led him out of the House of Bones, to a hole in the courtyard. "Follow my lead." She spoke loudly and clearly "Tower of the Retrievers!" and jumped into the pits. Mark peered over the edge. She had vanished. Taking a deep breath, he followed her.

Wind rushed in his ears as he fell down, down, down... It seemed he fell for ever and ever. Gradually, he slowed until he might have been as light as a feather drifting to the ground. Then, without warning, he was launched up and out of a hole. He landed on his back and, cursing, got up. Nathalie was giggling at his predicament. He glared at her for a moment, but he couldn't stop a smile from sliding across his face.

Once Nathalie had gotten control over herself, she consoled him, "Don't worry about it. I've haven't seen a single spirit use the Sifting Pits without falling on their first try."

"Shifting Pits?"

"Yes. When you say which pit you want to go to and jump into one, it shifts the landscape around you. Or you around the landscape. Depends on your perspective. Either way, I guess you could call it teleportation of sorts." She spread her arms in a gesture of welcome. "Welcome to the Tower of the Retrievers."

Yes, it was a tower. A very, very tall tower indeed. It branched out like a tree at the top, to accommodate their flying residents, he supposed. When they entered, Mark noticed a set of stairs leading down as well. Nathalie, however, walked upstairs.

On the ground floor, there were a few doors with labels on them, though they were in a strange script the Mark couldn't read. He pointed this out to Nathalie, who replied, "The written form of Lingua Mortis. You might speak it well, but you must learn how to write it."

The stairs spiraled up, up, up, until it seemed they would never end. Part of the way up, they ran into a girl who looked to be about sixteen or so. "Hi, Nathalie! New recruit?" she asked.

"Yes, his name's Mark."

"Hello, Mark. I'm Alyssa. Welcome to the Retrievers!" she said, sticking out her hand.

Hi. Um, thanks." Mark shook her hand, unsure how to react.

No problem. I'd stay to chat, but I need to get a message to Al. Catch you later!" she called over her shoulder as she hurried down the steps.

Finally, after what seemed like hours and hours of climbing, they stopped in front of an unadorned black door. Most of the doors had handprints or pawprints of various shapes and sizes and colors, but this door was completely blank.

"Put your hand on the door and say your name," Nathalie instructed. He did as she told, and when he pulled his hand away, a print glowed red on the door. His name was inscribed above it.

"Your spirit is connected to this room," she explained. "once you enter this building, you need only think of it to travel there in an instant. And it will bend to your will. However you wish it to be, so it will be. This is _your _room, Mark. Nobody else will mess with it." She glanced down the stairway. "I should go. Goodbye, Mark." With that, she left him beside the door.

"Bye," he called after her. Feeling lonely, he supposed there was nothing for it but to go inside.

It looked just like his old room. _Feeling nostalgic, aren't we? _Asked a nasty little voice in his head. But it was true. He missed his old life already. Yes, this place was already proving itself quite interesting, but he couldn't help but feel a stab of regret as he thought of the life that was once his. And his fans... Maybe they didn't know anything had happened yet. Maybe they were wondering at his sudden silence. Maybe they knew, and they mourned already... His heart nearly broke at the thought.

There were a few changes, though. His computer desk had nothing on it. _Guess there's no Internet connection in the afterlife. _And a trunk sat next to it. _Wonder what that's for. _But right now, he was too tired to care. He simply fell onto his bed and slept.


End file.
